


down under

by ElasticElla



Series: the gay place au [2]
Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Established Relationship, F/F, Kinktober, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: It isn’t that Vicky’s going soft. She has plenty of little inconveniences planned for their trip to the beach, and Michael himself approved her plans, was positively gleeful when she outlined them.





	down under

**Author's Note:**

> the title's for how excellent vicky's aussie accent was, rip  
> all the love to andrea for looking this over first <3

It isn’t that Vicky’s going soft. She has plenty of little inconveniences planned for their trip to the beach, and Michael himself approved her plans, was positively gleeful when she outlined them. Sure it was more immediately gratifying to stomp all over Chidi’s heart but she has ages to break Eleanor. Any time she suggests a dramatic twist, Michael tells her to slow down- that this version of the Good Place needs to last a millennia. It can’t be like the first good place, and certainly nothing like that embarrassing second attempt.

So she does, going glacially slow. It might have the unintended consequence of making her enjoy Eleanor’s company even when she isn’t deliberately torturing the girl (she’s a demon, between fun and boredom, she’ll always go for fun). But that’s Michael’s fault.

Vicky walks the awkward two-bike-and-wagon contraption to Eleanor’s house, a cheery smile on her face. (It’s been easier lately to think of this body as _hers_ , it doesn’t itch like it first did, and Vicky does enjoy how deceptively pretty it can look. There’s only so much one can do with a body of flaming doom.)

The wagon is already loaded up with a cooler, inside is pre-made but looks homemade margarita mix, a bag of ice, a cordless blender, a bottle of tequila, salt, and glasses. She probably _should_ have gone shopping with Eleanor for each of the items instead of making Janet do it, but torturing Eleanor shouldn’t include torturing herself. Besides they needed to leave by eight to get to the beach at an acceptable time. The rest of the neighborhood is still sleeping, and Vicky ignores the tinge of disappointment when she sees Eleanor is awake and waiting on her little porch. (She had an _excellent_ wake up idea with manipulating Eleanor’s dreams and cockroaches.)

“Morning gorgeous,” Eleanor says, ambling over in a way that indicates she’s not entirely awake yet. She can see the moment Eleanor spots the bikes and remembers what traveling to the beach entails, her mouth opening.

Vicky grins, using excited voice number four- extra high-pitched, “I’m _so_ thrilled we’re going to the beach! I was never able to go when I was alive, maybe we’ll see some hermit crabs!”

Eleanor’s smile is pained, the ‘I’m doing this for you’ smile, and it only pleases Vicky because she clearly doesn’t want to go to the beach. That she’s doing it for _her_ is inconsequential.

“I haven’t been to a beach since Lake Powell, and let me tell you- it might not be a tourist trap, but that place is _boring_.”

“Well, according to this map we have five miles to bike and then we’ll be at ‘Just Beachy’.”

Eleanor snorts, but hops on the other bike. “Alright, let’s do this hot stuff.”

.

Five miles, uphill, and with the wind in their faces ends up taking a little over two hours. None of the tires are properly inflated- on bike or wagon- and honestly, Vicky can’t believe Eleanor hasn’t just decided to head back and say screw the trip. She figured there was a solid chance a mile in they’d turn around and she’d get a month’s worth of subtle guilt-tripping out of it.

Instead they’ve actually made it to Just Beachy, perhaps the most mediocre beach in existence. The sand itself is a little too rough to be comfortable barefoot, the scenery is underwhelming, there isn’t a seashell in sight only clear bits of glass, and the weather has turned cloudy.

They get off their bikes, and Vicky puts an appropriately awed look on her face. “Oh wow, so this is what a beach looks like…”

“Nope,” Eleanor says, turning to face her. “No way any form of heaven would make me exercise so much and then have _this_ the end result. We’re in the bad place aren’t we? I bet the ice we brought is already melted.”

Vicky laughs by mistake, can’t act out of it now. “Yeah. We also didn’t bring any sunscreen.”

“Un-forking-believable.”

Vicky shrugs, supposes it doesn’t matter now- Michael will be rebooting her soon enough. “Yeah, Janet?”

Janet pops in and Eleanor’s eyes go wide, “No way. No _way_. We didn’t even need to bring the darn wagon did we?”

Vicky smiles, “A fresh bag of ice and sunscreen please.”

Janet pops back in a blink, handing the items over.

“That’s all, thank you,” Vicky says before Eleanor can say anything.

Eleanor’s responses seem to have slowed anyways, doubtlessly thinking over her time in the so-called Good Place.

“You’re still making margaritas?” Eleanor asks as she undoes the cooler.

Vicky shrugs, “I’ve grown accustomed to alcohol in this world. As far as I’m concerned, I’m off duty until we return.”

Eleanor crosses her arms, “And what happens then?”

“Your memories get erased and it starts all over again,” Vicky says with a shrug.

“This has happened before,” Eleanor says slowly.

Vicky hands her a glass, takes one for herself, “We’re only on version three. Knowing Michael though, he’ll happily go through a few hundred attempts to perfect his theory.”

“Shirt,” Eleanor mumbles, taking a deep sip from her glass. “This is really good,” she says, surprised.

Vicky shrugs, “There was an orange I was going to use as garnish to fuck it up, but no point now.”

“Huh,” she says, “what else was planned?”

Vicky raises an eyebrow, and Eleanor adds on, “You already said I’m gonna forget all of this. What was today’s plan?”

Vicky’s eyes narrow, “You’re taking this rather well.”

Eleanor laughs softly, “Yeah well, I always knew I didn’t belong in the Good Place.”

“The lotion,” she starts with, gesturing with her glass, “takes forever to dry and would get sand to stick _everywhere_. It also tastes bad if things took a-” Vicky hesitates, and Eleanor cackles.

“If we had sex you mean. You made sure Janet would bring us gross tasting sunblock.”

“Yeah,” Vicky agrees, finishing her drink.

“What are you?” Eleanor suddenly asks, “Like were you human once and you leveled up the hell chain or…?”

Vicky snorts, “No. I’m a demon.”

“Huh. Cool.”

Vicky blinks, has never had a human react like that to her. Then again, her previous job was being the welcoming committee to the Bad Place, and most humans are too terrified at that point to really appreciate her demonic heritage.

“We should have sex.”

“ _What_?”

“This beach is lame and I’m in no rush to get memory-wiped again. Besides, I’ve never banged a demon or had sex on a beach, win-win.”

Vicky did block out their entire day to be spent at the beach, and Janet’s statistics on sex were fairly fascinating. She hadn’t really thought they’d be necessary- Eleanor had been good with taking things slow since the very first welcome to the neighborhood party. But now, presented with the possibility of an aware Eleanor, she finds herself intrigued.

“Okay.”

“Woah, don’t get too enthusiastic there gorgeous.”

Vicky chuckles, sitting in a patch of sand closer to the water, “C’mere.”

Eleanor drops her glass and follows, standing awkwardly beside her.

Vicky rolls her eyes, grabs a hand to tug her down into her lap. “ _Here_.”

“Yeah that’s, okay, we’re doing this.”

Vicky kisses her to shut her up, and partly because she likes the taste of the tacky bubblegum gloss. It tastes like it’s straight from the 90s and it’s Eleanor’s favorite. (There’s only a quarter of a tube left back in the clown house, and Vicky had been planning on making Janet duplicate it instead of presenting her with a gross grape replacement in two weeks’ time. In two weeks they’ll be on version four though, it doesn’t matter.)

Eleanor’s hands slide around her shoulders, and even without the sunscreen, the sand is getting annoying. Vicky spins them around, pushes Eleanor on her back, and draws back from the kiss, meeting her eyes.

“Okay?”

“You betcha babe,” Eleanor says, tugging her back down into a wet kiss.

Her legs fall open and Vicky’s surprised by the heat between them, pressing down, it’s the nicest thing she’s ever felt in this body. She presses again, and Eleanor moans into her mouth, clumsily scratching at her clothing. It should be more amusing to watch Eleanor fail a simple task, but Vicky’s too impatient and curious, wants to know what everything feels like.

Bringing a little bit of her real power to her fingertips, Vicky turns all of their clothing to ash in a touch, and Eleanor’s jaw drops.

“Fork. Of course you’re some super hot fire demon, that should be more terrifying.” Eleanor pauses, “Nope still dtf, kiss me.”

Vicky doesn’t know what a dtf is- she really needs to have another talk with Michael about common human vernacular- but kissing she can do, dips her head back down.

One of Eleanor’s legs slips up between hers, a steady pressure that feels really good. Vicky rocks against it as her pleasure builds, kisses becoming sloppy. It almost feels like the first time she made a fireball; only it’s all inside, heat increasing until it plateaus, a roaring in her ears she can’t hear over and a rush of wetness.

Eleanor smirks up at her, pulling a hand away from her pussy- and _how_ had she missed her doing that- to lick it clean. “Good hot stuff?”

Vicky lets out a breathless laugh, and they’re definitely doing that a hundred more times before they go back to the neighborhood. “Yeah, my turn.”

“Huh?” Eleanor asks, and Vicky’s already kissing down her sternum, excited to try a move from all the videos Janet got her.

.

It takes until late afternoon before they’re both completely exhausted, tequila gone and bodies wrung out. It’s a pleasant sort of tired, Vicky didn’t know that existed.

“I got burnt and there’s still sand _everywhere_ ,” Eleanor grumbles and then sighs. “Worth it.”

“That was fun,” Vicky acknowledges, staring up at misshapen clouds.

“Mhmm, what if you don’t tell Michael I figured it out?”

Vicky laughs, “Did you really just have sex with me to try and manipulate me? Maybe you do have a bit of demon blood…”

Eleanor rolls her eyes, “No. But Michael isn’t gonna get infinite do-overs is he?”

Vicky looks at the little human more seriously now, wonders if Eleanor is always going to be the reason his plans fail. And then she remembers what he said about her chances of ever getting a promotion, and besides- what if in version four she went back to some boring background role like Denise the pizza lady?

“I’m listening.”

Eleanor grins, “Okay, here’s the plan…”


End file.
